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by jamessirius



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Post - Game of Thrones season six, and sex too, your faves having deep conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamessirius/pseuds/jamessirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot.<br/>Jon and Dany tell each other their life stories and realize how similar they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

When she woke, the sense of relief ran through her body as she saw that Jon Snow was still lying by her side, sleeping peacefully face down. After dreaming of his touch for so long, it was comforting to remember that last night had not been just another dream.

Daenerys and Jon had been close friends since she arrived at Winterfell and he, as the new King in the North, joined her cause. She was staying at Winterfell with Tyrion Lannister and Theon and Asha Greyjoy, to meet all the Lords in the North and ensure their loyalty to her. But so many things had happened since her arrival. Jon’s brother, or cousin, Bran Stark, had told him that he was not really Ned Stark’s son, but the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. This had remained a secret between the two Targaryens, for the Northeners saw him as Ned Stark’s son, and when they looked at Jon, they saw Ned. Jon did not yet know the consequences of being the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna for him to be telling his people.

Jon used to go for walks with Dany around the castle, sometimes they stayed up all night chatting and drinking spiced wine until they were so tired that their eyelids felt heavy.

That night, they were sitting on a couch in Dany’s chambers, each one with a cup of wine in their hands and a bottle at their feet. Dany had furs covering her legs; after living her whole life in Essos, it was hard to get used to Winterfell's cold.

The more they talked, the more she noticed how much they were alike. Even though they both had a hard childhood, she enjoyed listening to him as he recalled the time he lived in Winterfell; she loved how he smiled every time he talked about the Stark children. Yet what struck her the most was the way he spoke about the Night’s Watch. Even though he had been betrayed by his brothers, he kept showing a strong devotion to the Watch, to the men he had commanded, even though he was no longer Lord Commander. She knew the Wall was still on his mind, it would never leave his thoughts entirely, and neither would his vows.

“They were my brothers,” he simply told her after she asked him the reason behind his persistent devotion towards the Watch. _They betrayed you_ , she wanted to reply, _the Starks were your family_ … “The Starks are gone,” he continued as if he had read her thoughts. “My father-my _uncle_ Ned, is dead. Lady Catelyn is dead. Robb, Rickon, both dead. Arya, Gods, Arya, no one has heard about her in years.” He swallowed hard as he sat back in the couch where they were sitting.

He rubbed the cup of wine with his thumb, his eyes full of thought.

She wished she could have known the Starks, when they were a family, all of them living together in Winterfell. She would have liked to meet Ned Stark, the man who restlessly defended her when Robert Baratheon wanted her dead, as Ser Barristan had told her. Just as he had saved her life, he had saved Jon's, and she couldn't thank him enough for that. And, of course, she wished she had met his children, the way Jon smiled when he talked about them...the memories she had about Viserys had never made her smile.

“What’s it like…to have a family?” Dany asked him, focusing her gaze on his fingers while they held his cup of wine.

“Depends on what kind of family you have,” he smiled. “I had the best siblings one could ask for, or…well, cousins,” he corrected himself. “But Lady Catelyn,” he made a pause, “she was a complicated woman; a very good mother, indeed, but not a very good step-mother. However, there is no perfect family, is there?”

Dany gave him a sad smile, thinking about how imperfect the Targaryen family was.

“Maybe it was best that I never met my father,” she told him. “But my mother,” she sighed, “how I wish I could at least know how her face looked like, or how her embraces felt like.”

“We have that in common,” he said as he gave her a soft smile.

“Or Rhaegar,” she continued. “I still dream about him sometimes. Not as a warrior, but as a brother, playing the harp for me, singing me the sweetest songs…we both could have learned many things from your father.”

Jon rested his elbows on his knees, looking at her as she took a sip from her cup, not saying a thing, letting her continue.

“All the family that I had was Viserys, and that is not what I want to have in mind about what family should be.”

“No, it should not,” he agreed.

“Is it fair that we never got to meet them? Rhaegar, Aerys, Rhaella, Lyanna. We only know stories about them,” she said in a sad voice, “about the Rebellion, about the Trident, about the tournaments, about the roses and the fire and…their deaths.”

Jon sighed. “If I ever have children, this is not how I would like them to remember me,” he said. “It is hard to grow up with no parents, and even worse, not even knowing who they are.”

Dany pitied him. At least she knew her mother and father’s names growing up, Jon had not even known that. Her fingers played with the furs covering her legs, while silence filled the room.

Her thoughts drifted to Rhaego and Drogo. Although she never had a family, she had been close to having one, she had been so close…

“What are you thinking?” He asked, breaking the long silence.

“I never even met my son,” Dany felt her voice weakening. She couldn’t even see his corpse. No matter how many years had passed, Rhaego would never leave her thoughts. _I’ll never be able to have a son again,_ she thought to herself, remembering Mirri Maz Duur’s prophecy.

“I…did not know you had a son,” Jon said, intrigued.

“He was Drogo’s,” she replied, “died before his first breath, and was taken from me before I could even see him.”

It had been a long time since Dany had talked to someone about Drogo and Rhaego and their premature deaths. She had first known love and affection with Drogo, and when Rhaego was in her womb, she was eager to know the feeling of finally having a family. But she did not get to know what it felt like. She had longed for it her entire childhood and it slipped from her fingers when she was about to have it.

“I’m sorry, Dany,” he finally said.

He meant it. He meant every word he said. He did not talk much, but he always knew how to listen, and how to…look deep into her eyes and make her stomach turn. She got lost in his grey eyes every time they met hers, lighted by the dim candles in the room.

After a pause, she said, “It’s alright.”

She had never shared her feelings so freely to anyone else, she thought it would make her look weak; but with Jon, she did not feel weak. He was listening because he wanted to listen, and because he knew how she felt.

“Yet here we are,” he said, giving her the smallest but most meaningful smile, “sitting here, with a cup of wine, after all the tragedies we’ve been through. You, one step closer to the Throne; and me,”

“As King in the North,” she completed his sentence.

“At home, yes,” he said instead. “None of these things could stop us. Not our dead families, not our dead lovers, not all the people who have tried, and in my case, succeeded, to kill us.”

He let out a smile that mirrored in Dany’s face.

“Can I ask you something?” Jon told her in a thick voice.

“Of course,” said Dany, adjusting herself in the couch. Jon leaned towards her, which made her mildly nervous.

“How did you manage to live with the Dothraki for so long?” he joked.

“Ha!” she let out a laugh. “How did _you_ manage to live with the Wildlings for so long?”

He let out a small laugh as he took a sip from his cup.

“Perhaps,” he answered, “for the same reason as you.”

Dany blinked. “And what is that reason?”

Jon looked down to his hands, and both of their smiles faded.

“Love,” Dany guessed. The word hung in the room.

Jon had told her about Ygritte before, and he knew how much Dany had loved Drogo. She wondered if he still mourned her death.

Jon nodded at her response.

“Do you still miss him?” He dared to ask.

“Every day,” Dany replied with a furrowed brow. “All these years have passed and I still can’t get the idea out of my head that he died because of me.”

“He did not,” Jon said firmly. “He did not, Dany. It was all the _maegi’s_ fault, the one you told me about.”

“I know, I just wish I’d done something.”

“Me too,” said Jon. “Having your lover die in your arms, I do not wish that to anyone,” he continued, “I’ve pictured that moment so many times, wishing I could save her…but the only thing we can do is...to move on.”

Dany smiled at his words. How strong they were, how hurt they were, how brave they both had been to be where they were right now.

“And we brought the Dothraki _and_ the Wildlings with us to Westeros,” Jon pointed out.

“We did,” Dany smiled, “they believe in us. Just as Drogo and Ygritte did.” Jon smiled back in a way that sent a shiver up her spine. He was so beautiful.

“We are probably going to gain a few more enemies for that,” Jon said in a low voice.

“As we always have,” Dany replied. “How many houses do you think will be reluctant to follow us for having an army of, as they would say, “ _savages_ ”?"

“I’m not sure yet,” Jon said, scratching his beard. “I have not been aware of the events in Westeros for some years.”

“Neither have I…my whole life,” she laughed. “If Tyrion weren’t here to guide me, this would be so much harder.”

“We all need help,” he replied, “my sister Sansa knows about all the houses in Westeros, more than my brothers ever did. She is, by no doubt, my best advisor.” Dany nodded. Sansa was a very smart girl, indeed. Jon had stayed away from Westeros’ politics for so long, he needed someone like her by his side.

“And, of course, we all need company too,” he said as he gave her a sweet smile, reassuring her that he would be always there for her, and not only for political reasons.

In that moment, she understood what Jon Snow meant to her. He was her tranquility and quiet, the man with those gray and comforting eyes that was sitting by her side made her feel at ease. It is true she now had a responsibility as a queen, an exhausting yet fulfilling duty that required her to put her own troubles aside; but at the end of the day she still longed for peace, for calm, while she struggled to call home a place where everything was new to her. Being with him was the time of the day she most expected, whether they were hours or just a few minutes. It felt so right to be with him, and she was willing to try harder to make him understand.

So before she had time to change her mind, she leaned towards Jon, took his cheek in her hand and kissed him on the lips. She was nervous he would pull away and reject her, but he did not. It was a slow kiss at first, she noticed he was nervous. But as he grabbed her waist and deepened the kiss, she ran her tongue over his lower lip and he opened his mouth for their tongues to collide. She surrounded his neck with her arms and stroked his thick curls. She wanted him to be as close to her as he could be. He rubbed her back and pressed her closer to him until there was not any space between them. She tried to be gentle with every movement, she wanted to taste and touch every inch of him without any need to rush.

His mouth left hers and started planting kisses down her neck, biting her skin softly, making their way to her chest, and Daenerys left out a small moan when he cupped her breasts with his hands and she lightly pressed his head against her chest while he kissed her there. She was certain he could feel how fast her heart was beating and how her chest rose and fell as her breathing was starting to get more and more uneven. She pulled his face up again and their lips reconnected, her hands holding his jaw, his hot tongue moved smoothly into her mouth. The kiss sent vibrations through her whole body, and his large palms rubbing her over her dress made her want to feel his flesh against hers without any piece of cloth on the way.

She broke the kiss and tugged his doublet over his head, his gaze not abandoning hers. They did not say a word to each other, the only sounds they made were moans and giggles. Still, by the look in their eyes, they were certain they both wanted this as much as the other. She grabbed his hands and pulled him up from the couch, and proceeded to take off her dress, letting it fall to the floor. He stared at her naked body in awe for a second and she left out a soft laugh after seeing his expression. He lifted her up, his hands on her arse and her legs around his waist, and laid her on the bed, looking down at her whole body and meeting her gaze once more, his dark eyes full of love and affection and tenderness and lust, how did she manage to wait for so long? Without a second thought, their lips met again as she pulled down his breeches and smallclothes to lightly stroke his cock, loving how his whole body jerked at her touch and how his cock became harder and harder in her small hand. He put his forehead on hers while he moaned her name, making her cunt wetter than it had ever been.

He started massaging her breasts and then covered her right nipple with his mouth, while his hand slowly slid down her body, making her shiver beneath his palm. His hand stopped in her center, pressing circles, and then sticking two fingers inside her. She was whimpering, moaning, begging for more. She could feel how hard he was against her. Her knees started shaking and her moans were getting louder as his fingers found a steady rhythm inside her. He popped off her breast and started showering hot kisses down her stomach, until his lips and tongue reached her inner thighs. He put her legs on his shoulders, planted a kiss on her center, and started licking and sucking her nub. Now even her feet started shaking, and the words that came from her mouth were now in Valyrian, in Dothraki, in the common tongue, she didn't even know if she was saying words anymore. Her hips were circling against his fingers and tongue, her back arched up, her hands fisting the sheets and then pulling his hair. She pressed his ears with her thighs, unable to let him go, screaming his name as loud as she could.

Although she did not want to rush before, she couldn’t bare another second without him inside her. She pulled him up on top of her and grabbed his cock, and her desperation made him giggle. She placed her legs around him and guided his cock inside her. His hips sank into hers and they both simultaneously hissed at the pleasure. He started thrusting slowly into her, but as she lifted her hips higher he increased the rhythm. His fingers now lost in her silver hair, his tongue in her mouth moving in synchronization with his thrusts, the taste of her cunt on his lips, his moans in her mouth, her walls clenching around him. He was delicious, he tasted better that she ever imagined. She needed more, she wanted this to last forever.

"Dany," he moaned into her mouth. "You have no idea for how long I've wanted this." She smiled at his words and restarted the kiss. She had wanted this for a long time as well, she wanted to tell him, but she was too lost in his lips. She finally had him, her arms were finally around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, pulling him closer until they couldn’t be any closer, wanting him to know that she would always be here, she would never leave.

Their thrusts were getting faster, so Jon grabbed her thighs to be able to thrust deeper into her. He thumbed her clit and sucked and bit her neck while her toes curled and her hips rose off the mattress to take more of him inside her. She reached her orgasm and he watched her with a smile as she threw her head back, her entire body jerking beneath him. She screamed his name loudly, very loudly, spilling her liquids around him.

With both their breaths uneven, she kissed him once more as she regained strength to lift her hips up again, and it wasn't long before his thrusts became erratic.

“I’m almost there, Dany,” he groaned against her neck. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and moaned her name as she held him tight, making sure he came inside her. Jon had always been a very quiet man, but now, Dany realized his moans were something she would never get tired of hearing. She had never heard her name being said in such beautiful way.

After he was done, Dany's legs were still curled up, pressing his bum and not letting him go.

"Jon," she whispered, trying to control her breathing. "Don't move yet...please."

He planted a kiss on her forehead and stayed inside her for a while. Dany softly stroked his sweaty lower back while his fingers carded through her damp hair and he smelled and sniffed and kissed her neck, breathing in the smell of home.

 

The next morning, lying awake beside him, Daenerys wondered if he would regret having her that night. She feared he would feel he had broken his vows once more, he still felt loyal to some of The Night's Watch vows. She ran her fingers gently between his shoulder blades, over his biggest scar, and brushed them down his back, over another few scars, where his brothers' knives had been before. Her touch seemed to wake him, and he turned his head to meet her eyes.

“Dany,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, I woke you.”

“Are you alright?” he asked when he noticed her concerned gaze. She sighed.

“I was thinking about your scars, about the night your brothers stabbed you. Your vows ended that night, Jon. Last night...” She hesitated before proceeding, while he watched her carefully. “Last night you didn’t break your vows. This was not wrong, this was not a mis-“

“It wasn’t,” he agreed. “Dany, I used to think that the Wall was the only place I would ever belong, and then my own brothers betrayed me. It still hurts to think about it. My own sworn brothers. I wonder for how long they planned it, for how long they were lying to my face,” he said, closing his eyes. “I know you understand this feeling, to be betrayed by someone you trusted with your life.” She understood. She thought about Jorah Mormont writing to the Spider, letting the Usurper know she was pregnant. She remembered how close she had been of getting murdered because of it. No matter how much time had passed, she couldn’t bear the thought of it.

They both knew how it felt.

“Daenerys, I swear I will never leave your side,” he said as he cupped her cheek, “It is here where I belong.”

He kissed her forehead and sat against the pillows. She rested her head in his stomach and he put his arm around her shoulders. She stared at her opened window, and smiled thinking about how she would plant lemon trees next to her room as soon as her reign started. It would not be easy to call Westeros her home, it was a completely new place to her. Yet it was, after all, where she belonged. She knew that he felt it too; the calm and the warmth, the passion and the bliss.

Their grey and lilac gazes met once more and she understood that she was, in fact, at home.

**Author's Note:**

> This story holds a special place in my heart. It shows one how I would ideally want them to interact in canon, to find out how similar to each other they are and how there's someone else in the world who has gone through similar obstacles. What could bring them together more than that?
> 
> Comments are much appreciated, please let me know what you think!


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